Black Leather
by vjs2259
Summary: Every death leaves a gap. Every gap needs to be filled.


**Black Leather**

_Charmed_, S4

The front door to the old house slammed, cutting short Phoebe's shouted good-bye. Cole had shown up with nothing more than on his mind than spending time with Phoebe, and the two of them were off for a walk in the cemetery. Piper shivered. It was a familiar venue for those two, and safer than most for dodging demonic bounty hunters, but she could never see it as romantic like they did.

Especially now, since it housed along with her mother and grandmother, her sister Prue.

Phoebe had promised to help her clean out Prue's room in preparation for their new sister's – she still stumbled over the word – for _Paige's_ arrival. This had been Piper's room for years and years, until her generous big sister had switched rooms with her and Leo. It was the largest bedroom in the house, and Prue had moved into it after their Grams had died. Piper had thought it only right since Prue had swiftly become the head of the house. Her big sister had taken care of everything, just like she'd taken care of the younger ones when Mom had died. Layers upon layers of memories lived in this house. Layers upon layers of memories lived in this room. The only thing that no longer lived here was Prue.

Phoebe had already finished carefully boxing up the cameras and lenses. Maybe in the future one of them would learn to use them as artfully as Prue had. Or maybe they would be sold or given away...but not today. The clothes had been divided into plastic storage containers; one to share among the sisters, one to donate to charity, one to keep. The last one contained items painstakingly folded and smoothed with shaking hands. It was to be stored in the attic along with the photographic equipment. All the other personal items had been dealt with in a similar manner, distributed and diluted, given away or lost among other things. They had switched out the sheets and blankets, the pillows and throws. The jewelry from the dressing table had been gathered up and tucked back into velvet cases or white cardboard boxes and taken to Piper's room. She and Phoebe were going to go through these more intimate items later, privately.

A few days earlier, Piper had taken possession of Prue's leather jacket. It was black, pure darkness with a lining of gold satin that shone like a sun enveloped in space. Wearing it felt like donning armor. It made her feel strong, like nothing else did these days. It was the only item remaining in the closet, where she had returned it after each time she'd worn it. Crossing the room she took it off the hanger and momentarily crushed it to her chest, releasing a faint puff of Prue's favorite perfume.

Running her hands down the supple leather, Piper fished in the pocket of the jacket and pulled out Prue's name necklace. She traced the cursive path of the letters and ran the gold links through her fingers. It was soothing, in a way, and she pictured Prue fiddling with the chain around her neck, like she had done a million times and never would again. They had all had the name necklaces made, at that place down by the pier, but only Prue still wore hers. The jewelry maker had one of those temporary booths that came and went in the summer and worked mostly in bent wire; gold, copper, platinum, and silver. Piper couldn't even remember where hers had gone.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she looked around the room. They had left some of Prue's best black and white photographs on the walls, set off by simple black wooden frames. Paige was an artist; she might appreciate them. Besides it wasn't right to completely eliminate Prue from this room. Scenes of San Francisco, exteriors of the house, a candid shot of Piper and Phoebe and a few other shots hung in staggered rows. Piper stared at the portrait; she couldn't for the life of her remember what they had been laughing about. Her nose was scrunched up, her hand half-covering her open mouth, and there were tears standing in Phoebe's eyes. Whatever it was, it must have been hilarious.

They'd kept everything in the room neutral, from the crisp white sheets to the silk and linen comforter, etched with squares of ivory lace and dull gold satin. Paige could set her own palette after her arrival. The top of the chest of drawers was bare of clutter; no keys, no wallet, no lipstick. Bereft of toiletries, the empty dressing table shone with polish alone. The mirror suspended over it no longer held snapshots and business cards and ticket stubs tucked into the frame.

Piper sighed, and patted the jacket lying across her lap. She had agreed with Phoebe that it was best that Paige move into the manor but part of her quailed at this new responsibility. The power of three wasn't just acquired, it had to be learned. It had to be earned. It would be her job to instruct, to advise, and to protect their newly acquired sister. Along with the jacket, she'd inherited the responsibilities of the oldest. She was the head of the house.

Picking up the jacket, she pulled it on and wrapped her arms tightly around herself, wishing she could feel one of Prue's fierce embraces just once more. Like the leather she had to be strong, strong and yet flexible. Paige was still unsure of her role in the family. Piper wasn't sure of, well, anything. Paige couldn't take Prue's place, no one could. Still one could feel, with an almost physical pang, the younger girl's yearning to be part of their family. However mixed her own feelings, Piper had to make Paige welcome. She had to help her find her place. She had to keep her safe.

After all, she was the big sister now.


End file.
